Whither Wander You
by ShadowFox94
Summary: Companion to my story "Two Words." While at a gas station during a hold up, Sam is injured being a hero. Edited: 3/2/13
1. Chapter 1

So I finally got around to posting this. As the summary states, this is tied in to my story "Two Words." This fic is from Sam and Gabe's version of what happened.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Supernatural, half the characters would still be alive.

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"Sammy, we're out of Mt. Dew! We need more! I can't function without my daily dose of caffeine!" Gabriel barged into the dorm room. The shorter man flinched when Sam threw a bottle at him, catching it on reflex. "What is this junk? Fred?" he exaggerated the name. "Why is this bottle named Fred? Who's Fred?"

"That's water, Gabe. It's a brand." Sam sighed. He sat on their worn couch. "Water is used for more than water balloons and guns," he added at Gabriel's blank look, rolling his eyes.

"Why would you waste water like that when you can drink ambrosial Mt. Dew? Or Pepsi?" Gabe asked, incredulous. The drama major stood up, enthusiastically waving the bottle about. "If I drank water, I wouldn't be able to use it to prank Mike-"

"What are you doing to Mike?" Sam interrupted, taking the water back. The football player wasn't known for his sense of humor. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Though, if he smooshes you, you can open doors with your crutches; I won't help."

"Aww, you're worried about me. Don't despair, Sammykins, the big, bad quarterback won't know what hit him." Gabe's grin was mischievous, clearly displaying his devious plans and amusement over said prank. "But stop changing the subject! We're out of caffeine!"

"You know, girls would kill for your secret." Momentarily derailed by the non sequitur, Gabe shot a questioning look at Sam, to which the taller man explained, "You mainline sugar, be it a drink or candy, I don't think you even know what a salad is, and yet you stay the same weight. The entire female population would love to be able to do that." Sam had long since resigned himself to his roommate's eating habits and had stopped trying to lecture him on the benefits of a healthy diet. Instead of starting a new rant on proteins and vitamins, he flopped across the couch. "Anyway, why exactly can't you just go buy the pop yourself?" he questioned, eyeing his energetic roommate. "Because obviously the man near-vibrating with energy needs more caffeine and sugar," he thought.

The midgetty, at least in Sam's opinion, blonde pouted, his bottom lip quivering. "You forgot? Tonight is the opening night of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I have dress rehearsal in an hour!" Gabe turned away from Sam. "I thought you were going to be there..."

"Ah, Gabe, of course I'll be there to watch. I'll be waiting afterwards to congratulate you on your wonderful performance as Puck. Seriously, that role was made for you." He sighed, smiling slightly. "Fine, I will go get your addiction. What kind of Puck would you be without your endless energy?" Checking his wallet, he might as well refuel the Charger while he was out, Sam stood and started for the door.

Gabe half-tackled him in a hug. Fortunately, or perhaps not, Sam had become used to his roommate's tactile nature. "Oh, Sammy, you're the best! I don't care what people say about you!"

"Yeah, yeah. You still have to pay me later," Sam laughed, gently prying the shorter man's arms off. "Just because today's important doesn't mean it's all about you. Though in retrospect, most days do seem to revolve around you and your tricks. Look how my life has turned out," he said in mock chagrin.

"Just think what your life would be like without me, Sam-a-lam. It would be boring."

"If by boring you mean normal and sane, then yes, my life would be boring," he teased, shutting the door behind him.

"One-nothing, Samsquatch!"

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A/N: And the beginning is done! This'll probably end up only being 3 or 4 chapters. I'm still working up to longer stories. I actually have most of this written, I just need to post it... sooner if I get comments or reviews. Or I have free time. Whichever comes first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Hey, look! A Magic 8 Ball! *shake* Nope, I still don't own Supernatural.

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Phump. At the sound of the pump disengaging, Sam glanced up, the screen stating that his tank was now full. The price of filling his Dodge Charger this time amounted to $66.60. "666," he thought, laughing. The memory of Gabe's reaction to that number came to the foreground of his thoughts.

"666?" The man jumped up, seemingly shocked at the number to Sam's confusion. "Sammy, that number's evil; it's the number of the beast!"

"Why do you know that?" Really, Sam shouldn't be surprised by Gabe's randomness anymore, but where had that come from? He closed his book and stared at his roommate, his query shown on his face. "I mean, I know that because of my world religions class, but why do you?"

Gabe scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What, you thought with names like Gabriel, Castiel, Michael and Raphael that we were pagan? Please, my family is really religious. Let's just leave it at that."

"Castiel? I don't remember seeing that in any Bible." The brunette shifted his legs, one having begun to go numb. His schoolwork lay forgotten on the table. It was a wonder he managed to accomplish anything living with a man who re-invented the term distraction.

"Castiel is the angel of Thursday." The 'duh' was evident in his voice. Snatching a Twix from his bag, - seriously, where did Gabriel get all his candy? More importantly, how did he afford it? - he shrugged. "Coincidentally, my baby bro -well technically my cousin, but that's a story for another time- actually was born on a Thursday. Usually, we just call him Cas or Cassie, though; Castiel is such a mouth full." He shot his patented trickster grin at Sam, complete with evil chuckle. "Plus, he hates it."

Sam was jolted from the memory by a chime from his phone. He glanced down, one-handedly flipping it open, and read the new message. "Don't forget my caffeine fix :)" Like Sam could actually forget to buy the pop and continue to live with Gabe. As much of a clown as Gabriel Singer appeared, the man could hold a grudge. And he was creative. Not a good combination, as many of the college's jocks could and would attest to. Especially Gordon, who still flinched whenever anyone mentioned Jell-O. When he was in a foul mood, short stature or not, people, professors included, stayed out of Gabe's vindictive sight, lest they become the trickster's next target.

Sam entered the sparsely populated gas station, scanning the aisles for the pop section. He passed several preteen girls gossiping over the newest celebrity love affair and went straight for the Mt. Dew. Ugh, how could Gabe drink this? It was almost pure sugar. Stuffing one case under his arm, he grabbed a second. Knowing his friend, he would easily go through two cases over opening weekend. Fishing his wallet from his back pocket with his free hand, the brunette approached the counter. "Hey," he checked the cashier's nametag, "Mark. The gas at pump two and this pop."

As Mark added up his total, the bell above the door chimed, signaling another customer's entrance. Sam wouldn't have thought anything of it if one of the girls hadn't shrieked. His eyes darted to the mirror attached to the countertop sunglasses display. Six feet behind Sam, the newly entered man had a cliché, black ski mask covering his face and a gun clutched in his hand. He waved the gun towards the cluster of terrified adolescents and demanded the cashier hand over all the money in his till. When the man turned to observe the rest of the store, moving the gun from the girls, Sam acted. Thank God for his father's insistence on knowing self-defense.

He quickly crouched and swung his leg out, catching the other man's. Before the supposed thief could fall completely and risk having the gun go off, Sam snatched the weapon from his grip. A swift punch to the man's head, and he was unconscious. The normally, gentle giant stood from his crouch, shaking out his hand. Sirens were getting increasingly louder.

"Watch out!" At the warning, Sam's head whipped up in time to see a second armed man jerk from the recoil of his handgun. A second later, pain lanced through Sam's abdomen. His eyes lowered to see crimson spreading across his navy button-up. He stumbled and was gently lowered himself to the floor. Distantly, he wondered how someone managed to control his large form. Sam tried to focus on the person supporting his weight, but he couldn't. Dizziness caused the store to transform into a mix of colorful blobs.

Slowly, his awareness of the burning in his side dimmed.

"Hey, stay with me, son. You'll be all right. Heroes have to live." Sam didn't recognized the voice, but the tone reminded him of his dad's the time he had fallen out of the oak in their backyard and broken his arm: urgency and badly concealed fear. "Stay awake, kid."

He tried to answer the voice, but his tongue wouldn't work. Actually, nothing seemed to be functioning properly. The ever-present elevator music of the gas station was muffled, and shadows encroached upon the edges of his vision. The last thing he heard before he succumbed to the darkness was a frantically yelled, "Call an ambulance!" Then, it all faded away.

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**A/N**: I realized I forgot to mention this in the last chapter. The title comes from the play "A Midsummer Night's Dream." It's a line from Puck, the trickster.

Reviews mean Sammy lives! Though, if you've read my other story, you know how this ends, more or less. :)

**A/N 2: **Edited to change Cas to Gabe's cousin to fit with _Fun With Blind Dates._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I still don't own it. Though, hopefully, the writers will listen to all us fangirls/boys and bring some of our angels back next season.

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"And, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck-" Gabe's perky ringtone interrupted him mid-speech. "Hang on, guys, I should probably answer this. Adoring fans and all that," he informed his fellow actors, winking.

"Mazel tov! This is Gabriel Singer, future entertainer and current god of mischief. How may I be of assistance?" No matter how many times Sam or Cas had tried to discourage him, Gabe continued to answer his phone with one-liners. His favorite so far had been his impersonation of the CIA.

"Mr. Singer?" the monotonous caller asked. "Are you the roommate of Samuel Winchester?"

Gabe hesitated. To coin the phrase, it felt like someone had just walked over his grave. Though, with that question, perhaps it wasn't his grave... "Yes?"

"Mr. Singer, this is Rebecca Rosen from Angelus Iudicium Hospital. I've been asked to request your presence at the hospital as soon as possible. You were listed as one of Mr. Winchester's emergency contacts, and we have been unable to contact his family."

After the initial shock of Sam's use of him as a contact, Gabe processed the rest of her statement. "What's wrong with Sammy?" he whispered, unsure if he wanted an answer. The blonde clutched his script to his chest. "Is he okay?"

The nurse paused. "I think it would be best if you came to the hospital, Mr. Singer. Your friend has been injured and is currently in surgery."

"What?" That wasn't at all what Gabe had been expecting. His script fell to the floor. By now, the rest of the cast was silently watching the resident trickster. He was quiet throughout her explanation of Sam's injuries. All Gabe really understood was that his gigantic best friend had been shot and was in surgery. Possibly, near death. And he was still standing frozen while everyone stared. Realizing he wasn't where he needed to be, screw opening night, Gabe hastily paraphrased the nurse's words to the cast and left. Thankfully, he wasn't in costume. As he reached his convertible, the gravity of the situation struck him. Tears gathered at the corners of his golden eyes, and his breath hitched. Oh God, how could this have happened? They were in the middle of Suburbia! Things like this didn't happen here. All Sam was doing was getting gas and his stupid pop! That caused him to pause his internal breakdown. Chuckling wetly, Gabe could picture Sam's annoyed look and reprimand about trying to blame himself for things outside his control. There would probably be a good-hearted jab about making everything about him in there, too. Focusing, Gabe made a mental list of what he needed to do.

It was fairly short: contact Dean.

SPNSPNSP

On the hurried drive to the hospital, Gabe discovered he didn't have Dean's number. The mechanic had recently upgraded his phone, and Gabe had yet to program the new number into his contacts. Hopefully, Sam's would have it.

After messily parking in the first available space, he sprinted through the parking lot and the automatic doors. He smacked the receptionist's desk, not even bothering with his normal, charming smile. Gabe's sole goal was finding out the details of Sam's injury.

The woman raised her eyes from the computer screen. "May I help you?" she drawled. "I need to see Sam Winchester. He was shot," Gabe attempted to say calmly. "I'm his best friend and emergency contact." He flashed his I.D.

She clicked a few keys on the keyboard. "I'm sorry. Mr. Winchester is still in surgery. If you wouldn't mind waiting here, I will let you know when he can receive visitors."

Gabe sighed in resignation before remembering his other mission. "Can I have his cell phone? He would've had it on him, and I need it to call his brother." He crossed his fingers.

"Let me check." Several more clicks. "It appears he did have a phone on him. If you'll wait a few minutes, I'll send someone to get it for you."

"Oh thank you so much!" The blonde nearly hugged her.

An hour and a slightly hysterical conversation with Dean later, Gabe was allowed to to see Sam. Before he could enter the room, though, the doctor started a long spiel fraught with medical terminology. Gabe soon cut him off. "Doc, I don't speak doctor. Tell me in simple words what Sammy's status is." His gaze fell through the window to his bandaged friend, worried at seeing the normally gigantic man looking so small.

The doctor finally stated, "Surgery was a success. We were able to remove the bullet with minimal damage. Mr. Winchester lost quite a bit of blood, but we expect him to make a full recovery."

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**A/N:** So there you have it, Sammy's not dead. After this, there will probably be one more, shorter, chapter to wrap the story up.

Randomness-For some reason, I picture Gabe having 'Everybody Loves Me' by OneRepublic as his ringtone. The name of the hospital, Angelus Iudicium, is latin for Angel of Judgement. I couldn't resist.

**A/N 2: **Wow, I was just rereading my stories and discovered somewhere along in the process, this chapter was messed up. It's fixed now.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the late update. I thought I had already posted this.  
**Disclaimer:** Nope, I still don't own the Angel of Awesome.

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Gabe let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thanks, Doc. Can I see him now?" At the doctor's nod, he opened the door. "Oh, and, Doc? A Dean Winchester should be here within the hour. He's Sammy's brother, and he'll want to see him right away."

"I'll have him sent directly here."

Gabe was chatting to Sam's unconscious form when he heard Dean's unmistakable yelling. "Guess what, Samsquatch? You're big brother's here." He stood, going to meet the older Winchester in the hallway. Opening the door, he caught the end of the same speech he'd been given before he had asked for clarification. It seemed Dean wasn't in the mood for overly complex terms, either. It looked like Dean was considering punching the doctor to get to his little brother. Gabe had learned very quickly that you didn't get between the Winchester brothers if one was injured. He was about to steer the other man away from the doctor, for the doctor's safety, when someone spoke.

"Dean?"

Dean turned at his name, his features softening. "Hey, Sammy."

Gabe launched himself at his newly conscious friend. "Sammy!" At the last second, he checked himself, remembering Sammy's injury. Instead of a full-body, bear hug, the short blonde hugged his hand. "You're awake!"

"Jeez, Gabe, let him breathe. I didn't even know you could cause asphyxiation through a hand," Dean teased, almost as enthusiastic as the trickster. "Sammy, you ever do something as stupid as playing the hero again... make sure the other guy is the one in the hospital," he finished, grinning broadly at seeing his brother awake.

"I'll remember that, Dean. Oh, and sorry, Gabe. I didn't get your caffeine. Something came up," Sam joked, a hand to his side.

"Sammykins, you can forget my addiction any time. Just stay safe. And don't think you get out of seeing my show just because you're in the hospital. I'll wheel your crippled butt down there on a gurney myself."

"You know, you really don't have to do that, Gabe." Dean quietly snickered at his brother's discomfort. As long as it didn't hurt Sammy, Dean was all for Gabe's brand of bedside manner.

But unfortunately for Sam, once Gabe had an idea, no one could stop him. The trickster clutched his hands to his chest. "I'll dedicate my performance to you, Sam-a-lam. Know that every time I turn Bottom into a weird donkey-hybrid thing, I'll be thinking of you!"

"Wow, thanks, Gabe, I'm so honored," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Dean just snorted, relieved his brother seemed to be okay, and wondering if he could sneak into the police station to, ehem, "interrogate" Sam's shooter. Nobody messed with his Sammy.

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**A/N**: And that's it. I think I'm going to end it here, unless the readers say different. I may write more in this universe, though, later on.

**A/N 2: **Edited 'cause this chapter seemed too short. I had to add the part at the end- of course Dean wouldn't let the shooter get away. It's still short, but eh now it's not as bad- hopefully.


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